


Memory Recall

by staringatstars



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 02:32:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staringatstars/pseuds/staringatstars
Summary: Markus had a past he didn't talk about. It wasn't that he refused to, but rather that there hadn't been any time, not with how quickly events had moved after his arrival in Jericho. Thus, when a pipe broke in his room, spraying him with cold water, it didn't occur to anyone that it might be a problem until it was.





	Memory Recall

“Simon!”

Perched comfortably on a nearby windowsill, Simon glanced up from his book at the shout, recognizing it as North. They were sheltered in the church, which was mostly empty now, as many of the protesters and refugees had moved on to stay with allies or find transport to Canada, but there were several rooms for the staff that Markus and Josh had cleared out which now housed sparse furnishings such as mattresses and dressers salvaged from the trash. Markus, of course, had taken the room farthest from internal heating system, claiming he was comfortable with the cold. 

“Simon, get in here!” That was Josh. What was he doing in Markus’ room? 

Ignoring the concerned murmuring of the androids sitting in the pews, he jumped to his feet, sprinting for the back room to find its door swung wide, and grinded to a halt. The scene waiting for him was incongruous with what he knew of Markus, with what he knew of the world and his place in it, because inside North and Josh were standing rigid with their hands held over their heads, and Markus was in front, his clothes and head drenched by the spray of a broken water pipe, with a pistol aimed between them. He was shaking. 

North turned when he strode to join them, mouthing that he needed to be quiet, but he passed effortlessly between them, inserting himself in front of the pair. The barrel of the gun yawned, unwavering, while Markus himself showed no sign of having noticed his entrance. Still, Simon summoned a smile. “What’s going on Markus,” he asked calmly. “Did you change your mind about this room, after all?”

While he could most definitively feel Josh staring a hole into the back of his head, he ignored it. Instead, he gestured impatiently for them to leave.

“Not without you,” he heard North hiss, followed by Josh gently persuading her to trust him. Unsurprisingly, Simon was greatly warmed by each of the sentiments, though he pushed those thoughts aside to deal with the matter at hand. 

Markus trembled, a look of despair in his eyes. His mouth and jaw worked, “I can’t save him.”

Simon took a step closer. “Save who, Markus?”

To his surprise and relief, Markus heard him. “Carl.” His gaze drifted, settling on the tiles. “I can hear him. He needs help.” With increasing panic, he continued, “I can’t move. Why can’t I move?”

Alarmed, Simon craned to get a look at his LED, before recalling with a surge of dismay that Markus had removed it. “What are your stress levels, Markus?”

There was no response. It didn’t fit with the narrative. But then, neither did Simon.

The spray from the broken pipe clung to his hair and synthetic skin, soaking through his clothes. Between the frigid water and the room’s wintry chill, he was tempted to switch off his temperature sensitivity, but held off. Markus was freezing, trapped in a memory and terrified, but Simon was here. He would always be here. 

Slowly, he clasped the hands clenched around the gun, and eased the barrel away from him, directly it towards the wall where there was less of a chance of hurting someone, and asked, “Who can you save?”

Defeated, Markus bowed his head. “No one. I can’t save anyone.”

“You can save yourself,” Simon told him, because he believed that. Because it was true. And as he did, he began to work on loosening Markus’ grip. 

A quiet, broken whisper, “I can’t.” It carried a mechanical quality, glitchy and strained, that sent Simon’s own levels skyrocketing. 

“You can!” Simon blurted, moving past the gun to, against his better judgment, rest his palms on the sides of Markus’ face. “You’ve saved so many people, Markus. We were dying, and then you came and you brought light and hope, and I don’t want to go back to the way things were before you did.” The surface under Simon’s hands was warm to the point of overheating. Simon pressed their foreheads together, choking back tears. “I don’t want to go back to a world without you.” 

In a hushed and tired voice, Markus murmured, “I don’t want to be thrown away again.” This time, the mechanical tone was absent. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Simon responded firmly, recalling his own time on the roof, injured, alone, and afraid. He hated to think that Markus had ever been forced to experience something like that, and longed to get him out of the cold. 

The unfocused gaze of their revolution’s leader lingered on the empty corner, “He’s going to die, Simon. I can’t stop it.”

Simon nodded. “What does he want you to do?”

And Markus looked at him like he was seeing him for the first time. Somehow, Simon had become a part of the narrative. Haltingly, like he was confessing to some heretofore unspoken shame, Markus said, “He wants me to run.”

Simon shook his head. “He wants you to live.” Despite not knowing this Carl, and never having met him, it was clear to Simon that the man must have cared for Markus. And whatever happened, Markus regretted it enough that it haunted him, but that was just the way he was, and Simon wasn’t ready to lose him. “Come back, Markus,” he urged, hoping his voice would continue to reach him, wherever he was. That it would find him and guide him home. “You don’t have to run, anymore.” 

There was a whirring as the artificial pupils in Markus’ optical processors expanded and refocused. A shudder passed through his form. He looked at Simon. “Simon?” A beat passed as his gaze rose over Simon’s shoulder, taking in the ruined furniture and the gun in his hand. “What happened?”

 _An error in your software_ sat on Simon’s tongue and stayed there, unspoken. Instead, he carefully pried the gun from his grip and tossed it on the mattress, saying with finality, “You had a nightmare.”

Markus frowned at him, his eyes searching. “That appears to be an understatement.” His throat bobbed, simulating a dry swallow. “Did I hurt anyone?” 

“No,” Simon assured him, then grabbed him by the sleeve, guiding him out of the chilly spray and the cold. “Come on, let’s get you dry and warmed up.” Markus followed without resistance, allowing himself to be led. 

Once they were outside, North and Josh approached, warily at first. When Simon nodded, North threw herself into Markus’ arms. “Are you okay? We were so worried about you!” 

Markus glanced down at her, taking in her joy with a mix of confusion, disbelief, and shame, “I’m so sorry for scaring you. It won’t happen again.”

Josh clapped him on the shoulder, “We’re just glad you’re okay. Any idea what happened?” With a frown of distaste, he added, “Your room looks like it got hit by a hurricane.”

His brows furrowed in concentration, Markus admitted, “I remember lying in bed when the pipe broke, but that’s about it.” He shrugged, looking miserable. “Sorry.”

Josh gave him a sharp look. “Stop apologizing. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Now wasn’t the time to mention that as frightened as he’d been for Markus, a part of him had been scared of him, as well. Burying the thought, he noted, “We’re going to have to find a different place for you to stay.” 

Simon offered his own quarters almost immediately, surprising no one. Trading knowing looks, North and Josh retreated back to their own quarters, though not before explaining to the refugees who might have overheard the commotion that a water pipe had broken, and North had seen a rat. 

Josh improvised that last part, an act for which North swore eternal retribution, as she’d been forced to go along with it in order to not raise suspicion.

When Simon welcomed Markus into his room, a repurposed janitor’s closet, he made a move as though to settle into the wicker chair beside the head of the mattress, much to Markus’ confusion. ‘What are you doing?”

Simon glanced up from pulling an extra blanket over his legs. “Giving you the bed.”

Markus shook his head with a fond smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not here to steal your bed. If anyone should sleep in the chair, it’s me.”

“You’re a guest.”

“This is _your_ room.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to share the bed!” Simon blurted, his eyes widening a fraction as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just said. Apparently satisfied, Markus peeled off his coat, setting it on the door handle before making his way to the mattress. A grin now playing at his lips, he gestured for Simon to join him. 

With a huffed, “You did that on purpose,” Simon gathered together a pile of dry clothes for him to change into, “But if you think you’re lying on my bed soaking wet you’ve got another thing coming, Markus,” and left the room for him to change.

When he returned, Markus had already collapsed on the mattress, sprawled out like a big cat. “Ah, yes,” Simon noted wryly, as the door shut soundlessly behind him, “Just like my fantasies.” To be safe, he turned up the heater, then shimmied under the blanket next to Markus, taking in the relaxed features, the even breaths. 

Sleep mode hovered at the edge of his consciousness, yet he put it off, enjoying the moment while it lasted for as long as he could.


End file.
